


A Matter of Time

by caras_galadhon (Galadriel)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Community: contrelamontre, Established Relationship, First Time, Introspection, M/M, Masturbation, New Zealand, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Vignette, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 07:05:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel/pseuds/caras_galadhon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave likes to watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://contrelamontre.livejournal.com/profile)[**contrelamontre**](http://contrelamontre.livejournal.com/)'s 3+ Scene/Word Challenge (Write a story consisting of at least three scenes, where each scene starts with the word that ended the previous one, and the last scene ends with the word that started the story. Time limit: 90 minutes.), but not finished before the end of the challenge week. Therefore, while I am not posting it to the [](http://contrelamontre.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://contrelamontre.livejournal.com/)**contrelamontre** community, I have decided to persevere and toss it out there in an attempt to get back in the habit. This story also works within the bounds of the Tense Challenge issued on March 3 (Write a story featuring at least two different scenes in at least two different tenses; bonus points if you manage all three.), another challenge I had to miss due to RL commitments.
> 
> Implied/stated Aragorn/Boromir.

[ ](http://community.livejournal.com/mome_awards/)

**I.**

Watching the rushes, prepping for Faramir, he felt a bit like a peeping tom. Granted, he wasn't alone; Mark was snoozing softly in the back, Peter was making notes, a few other crew members were periodically slipping in and out of the room, bringing missives and jolts of caffeine. Yet here he was, boning up on his "relatives," peeking into the intimate moments of a man long dead, and his lover; for how could they not be lovers? Dave saw how Aragorn brushed the hair out of Boromir's face, how he clasped his hand, cried and kissed the other man's forehead as he slipped from his mortal bounds. How Boromir searched Aragorn's face for reassurance, understanding and hope when he spoke of the failing light of his beloved city. Dave saw, too, how fiercely their differences roiled between them, how their anger broke upon one another, crumbled bonds, shattered shared trusts, left splinters of resolve in their wake.

He saw, he understood, and embarrassingly enough, he felt himself grow hard as Boromir died, as he left Aragorn, extracting the promise he needed from the future King that would allow him to go gently into the unknown.

Dave had been in love before, and he knew, better than most, how easily it tipped into violence, pain and anger, given the right nudge. Love _was_ violent, and sometimes violence was an addictive drug. Clearly, the Men of the Fellowship were suffering from just such an addiction.

Philippa confessed as much to Dave one evening over a bottle of cheap wine and script revisions. " _Like_ lovers, nothing," she said, laughter suffusing her already pink cheeks. "Aragorn and Boromir have been fucking each other blind since Hollin. I know it, Fran knows it, Peter knows it -- Hell, the makeup gals know it. The only people who don't are Sean and Viggo, and I'm pretty sure it's only a matter of time." She shook her copy of the script vehemently, as if expecting this truth to fall out onto the table between them. "The only people who will never know are New Line, and hey, it's better that way. After all, they're a corporation with," she rolled her eyes, " _family values_ to uphold. Willful blindness is a wonderful thing."

That night after Philippa had left, Dave jerked himself off with the images from the rushes playing in his head. He wondered, as he bit down on his tongue, his breath quickening at the ministrations of his own hands, if this counted as some sort of strange form of necrophilia. _Getting off on dead men and their boyfriends. Hmm._ The thought was lost as he came, sweat trickling between his shoulder blades, his hand finally cramping up after all the repetitive movement.

 

**II.**

Movement is a hot commodity at the wrap party. Cast and crew are packed into a tent that isn't meant to hold more than two thirds of its current capacity. People are pressed tightly against one another, spilling out onto the lawn, laughing and joking as they jostle, grind and squirm their way from group to group. Dave is no exception. He's protectively clutching a beer to his chest, wriggling through the crowd, trying to get to Peter. The liquid sloshes a little as Miranda grabs his arm, leaning close in order to shout a greeting into his ear. Dave catches snippets of her voice over the dull roar of the horde, flashes her a smile and plants a quick kiss on her cheek. She lets him go, turning back to Liv and Orlando, and Dave is caught in the stream again, diving back into the crush.

Halfway across the floor he loses sight of Peter who has been engulfed in people, lost in a sea of bodies. Dave stops dead in his tracks, suddenly without a destination. He waits for the crowd to part again, and that's when he catches sight of them -- Sean and Viggo, standing a little too close together, even in such a throng. There's no fierceness, no fury in the way they talk to one another, but there is an intensity not present in the people around them. Sean is talking up a storm, three fingers hooked around the neck of a beer bottle, thumb and index finger stabbing at the air as he makes a point. He throws his arms around as he talks, but somehow manages not to whack anyone nearby. Viggo is grinning over his own beer, content to listen to Sean talk. He tips the bottle up, lets it fall down in regular intervals.

Dave can't hear them, and he's surprised they can hear each other in the din. He finds himself rooted to the spot, unable to look away. Viggo and Sean seem so full of life, and Dave feels like he can drink it in, feel it filling his lungs.

Sean's in mid-stream, the words coming faster now, when Viggo touches his forehead, brushing away a lock of hair that isn't there. Sean doesn't stop talking, not until Viggo leans forward, brushes his lips against Sean's own, increasing the pressure until Sean grabs the back of his head, pulls Viggo even closer.

Dave's become a voyeur again, peering in at intimate, private moments. He stares, fascinated, captivated, _aroused,_ and is unsurprised when a tingling sensation begins creeping up and down his spine. He is surprised, however, when an elbow connects squarely with the soft spot just under his ribs. He jumps, breaking his gaze, and as he blinks in confusion, he realizes Philippa has broken free of the crowd and is standing at his side. She gestures at the men, still locked in their embrace, and mouths something at Dave. He thinks she says "Told you," but it is her smile that confirms the words for him.

After all, it was only a matter of time.

 

**III.**

Time will pass, and eventually Dave will be called back for reshoots. When he returns to New Zealand, he'll shoot scenes with Sean for the first time. They'll get along well, and while Sean will maintain a certain amount of distance from Dave when he's out of costume, Dave won't mind that much. He'll find he's become addicted to watching Sean without Viggo, watching for glimpses of the exuberance he displayed at the wrap party, watching for signs of Sean's own addiction, especially when the drug is missing.

The cast will only be together for a short stretch, but in that time Viggo, finally finished reshooting scenes for the Three Hunters arc, will hook up with Sean, still shooting Gondorian flashbacks, and something between them will flare into life. Sean will start talking with his hands again instead of staring at them, and his grin will stretch across his face instead of simply twitching at the corners of his mouth.

Dave won't be sure, but Philippa will tell him that Viggo and Sean haven't let any of their ardour cool over the months they've been apart. Instead, they've been waiting until the right moment comes along. "It's always simply a matter of time," she will say with a twinkle in her eyes.

Viggo, not Sean, will invite Dave out for drinks, and the three of them will close out the hotel bar. Viggo will sit especially close to Dave, his knee brushing up against Dave's leg, one arm around his shoulders, but it will be Sean who invites Dave up to their suite.

Dave, surprising no one but himself, will say yes.

Twenty minutes later he'll find himself clutching at dirty blonde hair as Viggo bobs up and down on his cock, pressing backward as Sean groans and pushes into him. He'll catch sight of the three of them in the full-length mirror, wanton and flushed, and he'll think to himself, "It was only a matter of time."

For Dave, there will be no more watching.


End file.
